


Angel Dust's Overdose

by CrossTheCrossedPerson



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angel Dust Needs a Hug (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Death, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Heavy Angst, Henroin Bashing (Hazbin Hotel), Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Overdose, Poor Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossTheCrossedPerson/pseuds/CrossTheCrossedPerson
Summary: Anthony, Angel Dust's former human name, smoked too much cocaine mixed with weed. In this, he overdoses with someone leaving him there knowingly to die.
Relationships: Angel Dust & Arackniss (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Henroin (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Molly (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Angel Dust's Overdose

Erratic heartbeat quick breathes and the building pressure in his ears made the amount of panic Anthony was dealing with double. Held tightly between his fingers was a long half-smoked joint that was still smoking slightly, with his hazy eyes he stared down at it as he tried to swivel saliva around his dry mouth. Shakily he raised the joint up and looked in over with nervously darting eyes, he wasn't all to sure about what was happening. He's smoked weed mixed with cocaine so many times now, why was this happening now? Letting his arm fall back down to the armrest of the plush chair he was on, he looked to his side table that contained a proud-looking pipe and a classy looking lighter. Trying to breathe with some success, he tightened his grip on both the joint and the opposing armrest his other hand was resting on. Had he finally overdid it? Had he finally smoked so much where his body was going to fail him? Biting his lower lip, his gaze slid over to the joint, this was something he knew would happen eventually.

A garbled chuckle left his lips, as he bitterly twirled the joint between his cold fingers. It wasn't that bad, he heard overdoses felt worse than this. If this went on, Anthony could maybe die peacefully. He could handle a little fast heartbeat, trouble breathing, and some pressure against his ears. Even if he didn't die, people could ride out overdoses, right? Sometimes people wake up alive, so maybe he might wake up tomorrow ready to do it all again. Swallowing thickly, he found it difficult. Attempting to clear this throat, he found when trying the thickness in his throat wouldn't go away. Frowning, he tried to shift upright and was met with the world spinning around him, he let out a strangled noise before he tightly closed his eyes. Shit.

Slowly opening his eyes, his gaze shifted to the closed door of his bedroom. The door itself was blurry, its edges blurred as it seemingly was blending into the wall. Anthony restrained the feeling of panic in the back of his mind again and tried to force himself to relax. Relax. Taking in a greedy inhale of air, he found that it hurt far more now than before. It felt as if tiny needles were impaling the insides of his lungs all while it was a struggle to even get the air to his lungs. Forcing himself to intake air, he tightened his grip once more on the chair, he casted a helpless look down at the joint held stiffly between his fingers. The joint was still smoking, barely burning up more of the concoction of drugs. Had this only been going on for a minute? He could sweat this whole overdose thing has been going on longer... tensely he looked back to the door.

Did he really want to die? Was he really ready for that? A splinter of anxiety shot through his body, as a full-body spasm shook through him. A quiet gasp left his lips as his muscles involuntarily flexed, both of his hands twitching tighter around the objects they held. Maybe he didn't? Anthony's life was shit, this whole being born into an organized crime family sucked, he wasn't attracted to women, and his family hated him. By dying, he would be doing himself and them a favor. Right? Right? Why did he not believe that? Maybe they loved him still? Maybe if he survived this he could try to bridge the gap between him and his family.

Anthony sniffled slightly, trying to ignore the pain that came with it. God, everything was started to hurt so bad. Chewing on his lower lip, his mind spun. Pa was home. Yeah, he was home! Molly was out on the town tonight, and Harry was down at the Poker House, but Pa was home! Maybe if he called out Pa would help him. A small trickle of doubt filled him, Pa never liked him. Ever since he was a kid Pa had treated him poorly, but he had to care for him, right? At least a little bit? Slightly?

He laughed, a broken sound high with panic. Stabbing pains lit up his body, his mind was getting hazier and hazier, and he was starting to feel the beginning of a blackout coming on. He didn't want to die, he could make it up to everyone. Harry was rough around the edges, but as kids they were close, maybe he could have that back? Molly still loved him, she says it all the time, maybe if he actually tried with her he could feel closer with her. With Pa, maybe he could try to go shooting with him again as they did before.... Before the incident. Maybe. Maybe, he could be happy. Accept what he was, and accept the life he had.

"Pa," The word was just a whisper, a small croak in the quiet room. Not nearly loud enough to be heard by someone across the room, much less someone across the house. Everything hurt, Anthony didn't wanna do this anymore. He wanted to get help, he wanted his family to help him-he was going to die alone. He didn't want to die alone, "Pa!" The word was much more forceful, much louder than before. Trying to force air in his lungs again, he waited for footsteps, a voice, a figure-anything. That was when he saw something move in the corner of his room, his eyes flew over to the corner, there stood a tall creature. With a darkly cloaked form, one single gleaming gray-eye, white large wings, a halo crown of white gleaming light, and two horns sticking out of its head.

"Oh no, no, no," It whispered, a harsh sound that made Anthony shake in his seat, "You've made many mistakes in your life."

"Pa!" Anthony groaned in a near lifeless attempt, "Pa!"

"Hush," It told him, stepping closer to him from the shadowy corner, "No one will save you, you are destined for Hell."

"Hell," he whispered brokenly, what did he expect? He was no holy man, he was bad. He'd always been bad, he was never the good Catholic his Pa wanted from him, he was always so dirty.

"Yes," It hummed at him, the word coming out as a low hiss, "You never accepted the helping hand of our lord and savior, thus you go down to the pits, far away from our utopia."

"Fuck," he laughed, as he raised his free hand shakily up to his head and tangled it in his hair, "Fuck."

"Indeed," It mused at him, a wide toothy smile forming on its face.

For a few moments, neither he nor the demon in his room said a single word. The only sounds were his own shaky breaths and his racing heartbeat. The creature tilted its head before it fully turned its head towards the door, it frowned for a moment before it spared him a leveled glance. 

"Oh," the amusement in its tone was palpable, "You may have a chance."

With that, the being vanished. Leaving Anthony alone. He didn't want to die alone. Never alone.

"Pa!" He yelled-or tried to anyway, as his voice sounded muddled even to himself, "Help me, help me please."

Silence.

"Pa," He said, his head falling down where his chin rested to his chest, "Pa," his voice was broken, as he pulled at his hair with sorrow. He didn't want to die, he really didn't. Anthony felt something wet drip down his cold cheeks, as he sniffled loudly, "I'm such a failure," he whispered.

The room was back to spinning around him, the various household objects in his room currently spinning like a ballet dancer. Colors were unfocused, he could hardly see the door as he closed his eyes and let himself immerse in crying. He was starting to not breathe, his lower legs felt like iceblocks, his fingertips felt like he left them in ice water, all while he was starting to feel his face flush. Twitches wretched his body as he was helpless to stop them, his legs felt too weak to even lift them, his hand than was grasping at his hair felt harder to hold up, he could hardly comprehend himself or his surroundings.

That was why when he heard footsteps it made his entire body jolt and a light bulb of consciousness flow back to him, "Pa!" he croaked once more, his throat hurting at the attempt, "Pa, help me... Pa."

The footsteps paused right outside of his door-that was his door, right? A moment later, the door creaked open and a blurred human form peered in. Taking a long moment to focus on the man's face, he found by the briskness it was definitely Pa.

"Dad!" he slurred before sniffing, it made him choke slightly as he noticed a heavy liquid leaking out of his nose. After noticing that he noted the taste of copper in his mouth, despite his panic he tried to relish in the relief of being found, "Pa, I o-over-did it, I overdosed."

The frowning face of his Pa peered at him, Anthony could see his brows furrowing as he tilted his head slightly.

With tears running down his face mixing with the blood of his nose, he forced his head upright to better look at Pa. The world spun again but he tried to press forward, "M-my he-heart it's beating fast... it hurts to breathe."

With shaky hands still on his weed and cocaine mixed joint, he went on, "Call an a-ambulance... I feel like I'm b-blacking out a-again."

For a moment, Pa stood still. The door was pressed open wider, Pa took a single step in, and Anthony's heart soared for a reason that wasn't the overdose. Pa cared for him! Pa was going to help him! Pa walked into the room, Anthony felt a smile grace his lips despite the pain.

"Pa," he breathed, as Pa walked closer to him. He was almost close enough to touch, close enough for Pa to reach out and hold him-Pa walked past him, "P-pa?!"

Not even a second later, Pa walked back from around him holding that day's newspaper in hand. Pa was walking back to the door, Anthony felt his breathing constrict him further.

"Pa, wait!" Anthony cried out, the tears coming out faster, "Wait, please! Help me!" The last words came out in a breathless gurgle, Pa paused at the door and turned around to give him a sad look.

"Sorry, kid," Pa told him, shaking his head at Anthony, "See you tomorrow if you wake up," with that, he stepped out in the hall and started to shut the door behind him.

"Please..." he shakily said, his throat feeling thick not only from the overdose but also from his own emotional distress, "Don't you l-love me?"

"Anthony..." Pa trailed off, giving him a pitying glance, "With the way your life is going, this is a show of mercy."

"You d-don't love me," he whispered to himself, more tears flowing down his face, "I th-thought you di-did even just a little."

"I love you," Pa told him in the softest voice Anthony has ever heard from the man.

"Help me?" he all but demanded in a shaky tone.

Pa shook his head and closed the door.

"Pa! Please, I'll do better," he tried to yell after him, "I-i... I'll make you proud! Dad please come back! Pa!"

Anthony sobbed to himself, his hand tightening hatefully around the joint he still held. Shifting his blurry gaze, he peered down at the joint with an angry expression on his face. Grinding his teeth, he fitfully forced the last few drops of energy to raise the joint to his face where he took the largest hits he could muster from his broken self. Energy and will to live drained, he let both of his arms fall back to the armrests, he cried to himself for all of his mistakes, all of his weaknesses, and all of his freakishness. Blood and tears flowed down his face like a symphony of mourn, when he finally was knocked thoroughly unconscious, no one saw joint finally slip from Anthony's hand.

No one saw how Anthony's body went limp as soon as the joint finally extinguished it's smoking on the floor. No one saw the joint sitting almost quaintly next to his feet, no one saw the pain and anguish on his face until the next morning when Molly, his sister, walked in and found his dead body.

That was when a new demon arrived in hell, that demon being Angel Dust, a name that would soon see every porn screen in hell. 


End file.
